


In Plain Sight

by Fudgyokra



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mostly half-assed attempt at adding more Jim/Bruce to fandom, Romance, Some Humor, Some Plot, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 19:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: For at least tonight, he really was just a regular man, out to enjoy the nightlife with his best friend. Wasn't he?





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> The poem used in this is by Emily Dickinson! Anyway, I thought this fandom could use more Bruce/Gordon so here we go, whoomp whoomp.

PART ONE

Wayne Enterprises, 9:00 a.m.

* * *

 

I hide myself within my flower,

That wearing on your breast,

You, unsuspecting, wear me too—

And angels know the rest.

* * *

 

It wasn’t often that Gordon stopped by on such short notice, but Bruce was glad for the intrusion. Meeting with any member of the Gotham City Police Department bought him some time to slack off, which was especially welcome on a day like this, where everyone seemed to need his input all at one time. Even worse was the fact that the questions being blasted at him were trivial or could have at least waited for when he wasn’t trying desperately to beeline to Lucius’s office for suit blueprints.

When he got the text, someone was in his ear about upgrading the break room coffee machine, and he politely but swiftly derailed the conversation. “I will definitely get right on that, ma’am, but right now I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have to meet with the Commissioner. He’ll be in any minute.” Five, if Gordon’s estimation of time was worth anything. “I won’t forget,” he promised, just before rounding the corner to get to the elevators.

With a relieved sigh, he mashed the down button and raised his phone to respond.

_Is there a problem?_

A few seconds passed, and the elevator opened with a gratuitous ding just as his phone buzzed with Gordon’s response.

_No, just have a favor to ask. Plus, needed to get out of the office._

Bruce smiled to himself as he loaded into the elevator with two other dead-eyed employees, both of whom were clinging to steaming cups of coffee. They were triggering Bruce’s sweet tooth just from the thought. Just what he needed: A sugary cappuccino break with a good friend to take some of the stress off his bones.

_I had the same idea. Be down in a sec._

Jim had a serious expression on his face, but the moment Bruce arrived in sight, his mouth turned upward at the corners. “Ah, just the man I wanted to see,” he said, mostly in an effort to swat away the couple of secretaries already jogging toward Bruce with obvious intent to converse. “I have news for you.”

While the refused secretaries scampered away, Bruce crossed the expanse of white tile between them and engaged the man in a sturdy handshake, which Jim used to pull him into a hug. Predictable and comfortable. Bruce was just beginning to relax when Jim hooked him by the shoulder and pulled him forward to whisper in his ear. “Somewhere private, if that’s something we can make happen.”

Surprised by the sudden urgency of his tone, Bruce blinked at him for a second before he could formulate a plan of action. “My office is empty,” he suggested, barely having gotten the words out before Jim was nodding.

“Sounds fine to me. Let’s get up there.”

“I…” Bruce glanced around, then back at him. “I thought nothing was wrong.”

“Not _wrong_ , but not for the public ear, if you catch my drift.”

Bruce had a feeling that this wasn’t going in a good direction.

The two of them made it to his office without interruption, and Bruce gingerly closed the door behind them while the other man got comfortable in one of the lounge chairs near the window. When they locked eyes again, Jim had a strange look on his face and was regarding Bruce from above his steepled fingers. “Have you ever heard of a place called Blue Note?”

Bruce took that as his opportunity to sit down as well. “The jazz club out in the west end?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his legs.

Jim nodded. “Well, I heard an old friend of yours rented the place out for the night. Something about a gala.”

“An old friend?” Bruce rubbed his chin and squinted skeptically. “May I ask to whom you are referring?”

Jim leaned forward in his seat. The way he prefaced his next words with a deep sigh caught Bruce’s interest. “A Mister Oswald Cobblepot.”

At the name, Bruce’s expression sobered. He straightened his back and tugged idly at his cufflinks. “I wouldn’t consider him a _friend_ ,” he said with a meaningful curl of his lip. “More of an obnoxious acquaintance.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I meant. The problem is, I have reason to suspect that he might be using this gala as an excuse to cohabitate with some…unsavory friends. Follow me?” Bruce nodded, so Jim continued. “And Cobblepot ain’t exactly a big fan of the GCPD, so I can’t walk in there by myself.”

All at once, Bruce understood what the man was requesting of him. “Oh, jeez, ah… Commissioner, I’d love to help, but tonight is kind of…”

“Think of it like this, Bruce.” Jim held his hands out as though he were extending a peace offering. “If I’m right about this hunch, then you helped me get a warrant out on him, and the boys in blue take care of the rest. If I’m wrong, well, all you did was have a night out at a fancy club with a friend. See? Not so bad.”

Bruce looked at the man across from him and stopped to consider this point. It was an important fact that he had _other_ nightly responsibilities to which he needed to attend, but the way Gordon looked at him, with eyes full of hesitance and hope, made it hard to decline. “I’m not much of a drinker,” he said at length, offering it as a last-ditch effort to worm his way out of attending Oswald’s potentially dangerous gala. It struck him, though, that if Gordon _was_ right, then infiltrating and eavesdropping might be the perfect way for the Batman to emerge from his cave after all, provided there weren’t more pressing matters to deal with.

“I can’t say the same,” Jim joked, laughing in a way that brought a smile to Bruce’s face.

“All right,” he conceded. “I’ll come with you to Blue Note tonight. I just hope you know that there’s no guarantee Cobblepot will let _me_ in, either. Maybe he decided he’s seen enough of my face for one lifetime.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Bruce,” Jim said through fading chuckles as he stood. “A face like that always gets through the doors.”

To his surprise, Gordon paused like he expected a response. He was looking at him with a fond smile, and for a frighteningly long moment, Bruce wasn’t sure what to say or even how to speak. His war between a simple ‘thank you’ and something else left him stuck in silence until just the wrong moment, when Gordon had already begun to talk again.

“I’ll be there around eight—”

“Thank you.”

There was a pause. He hoped with sincerity that it wasn’t as awkward to Gordon as it was to him. “For the compliment, I mean,” he explained in a withering voice. “And yeah, eight. Got it. I’ll be there.”

“I knew I could count on you. See you for sure, then?”

“For sure,” Bruce agreed, extending his hand for their usual shake-hug combo. When Jim released him this time, Bruce was left with a strange weight in the pit of his stomach that watching the commissioner leave did little to combat. He decided, with a sigh of finality, that he really could go for that cup of coffee right about now.

 

PART TWO

West End, 8 p.m.

* * *

 

I hide myself within my flower,

That, fading from your vase,

You, unsuspecting, feel for me

Almost a loneliness.

* * *

 

The west end of Gotham was where all the right kinds of nightlife happened. In the midst of all the glowing signs, street music and happy crowds of tipsy young people, it was easy for Bruce to forget for a while who he was. The duties of the Batman called for fewer instances he could show his face in the party scene, so tonight was a remarkably reviving change of pace.

He cast his eyes on Jim, who was lighting a cigarette just a couple feet away. His boots blended in with the dark asphalt, but the rest of him was drowned in the deep purple glow coming from the bar sign above his head, making him look eerily radiant. Sometimes Bruce had to remind himself that not everybody looked at their worst in the nighttime.

“That’s the place,” Jim said suddenly, clicking his lighter closed and gesturing with his hand still fisted around it.

Following his hand, Bruce looked down the street at a tall, skinny building with a tall, skinny door beckoning people inside. Beside the opening was a tall, not-so-skinny man leaning against the bricks, leafing through a notepad like any proper bouncer Bruce had ever seen. Nothing seemed especially out of place about it. There were no suspicious crowds gathered around or any other shifty activity that would have suggested something illegal was going on inside. Bruce wondered, briefly, how solid a foundation this hunch of Gordon’s was built on.

The thought fled when Jim lightly bumped the back of his hand against Bruce’s shoulder and pointed in a different direction this time. “See that place?”

Bruce nodded, then dipped his head and asked with a lowered voice, “Should we be worried about it?”

“Nah.” Jim pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew out a puff of smoke. “I was just gonna say they have _really_ good wings.”

Bruce surprised himself by laughing. Something about the casual nature of it all caught him off guard. For at least tonight, he really was just a regular man, out to enjoy the nightlife with his best friend.

The man in question crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer. His mouth was so close to Bruce’s ear that he could feel his mustache tickle his cheek. Jim was inadvertently enveloping them both in purple-tinted smoke at the same time, and the sudden combined smell of tobacco and Gordon’s cologne made Bruce oddly dizzy. That weight in his stomach was back, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it before Jim rerouted his entire train of thought by speaking. “Don’t panic, but I’m counting on the Bat being here tonight.”

He did not have to fake his surprise. “What?” he asked, pulling back to look Jim in the eye. “Why?”

Jim must have interpreted his reaction as showing worry or misguided fear, because he held his free hand up and elaborated on his point in a rushed fashion. “It’s not because I think there’s gonna be danger. Don’t worry. But if _I_ heard about Cobblepot’s little shindig, I’m sure our friendly neighborhood Batman has, too.”

His responsive expression must have looked _off_ to Jim, somehow, because the man affixed him with an almost penitent smile and said, “I know, I know. Whatever you’re about to say, trust me, I’ve heard it before.”

Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it again. Luckily, Jim seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts enough that he either didn’t notice the silence or didn’t care. “Some people think he’s a criminal, or some psychopath trying to fuck the GCPD over.” There was a break in the conversation where he took a couple more drags. For some reason, his eyes were far away, but Bruce wasn’t going to push him out of the reverie just yet. “I think he’s an all right guy, ya know?” He was suddenly looking at Bruce with a serious expression and gesturing with the remaining half of his cigarette.

“Going through that a little quick, Commissioner,” he pointed out, making Jim switch his gaze over to his hand.

“Oh?” He laughed once, then sighed and rubbed his brow with the back of his hand. “I just have some real beef with people like that. It bugs me senseless because, for one, I look up to him. Sure, his methods are…a little out there, but what else is gonna help this crazy-ass city?”

Bruce’s mouth lifted into a fond smile. “Sounds like you’re a big fan of the Batman.”

“You have no idea,” Jim mumbled around the filter. He was still fixated somewhere in the distance, but Bruce knew they had to move if they were actually going to start their reconnaissance mission on time.

“Come on,” he said, leading the way. “We have places to be.”

The bouncer squinted at them the moment they approached. When he didn’t speak, though, Gordon cast a meaningful glance at Bruce, who cleared his throat and put on his best people-pleasing smile. “Good evening, sir. We came to see Oswald. See, he’s a good friend of—”

“Yah, you’re on the list,” the bouncer interrupted, cocking his head toward the door in a lazy gesture.

“Ah…right. Thank you.” Bruce tried not to look too put off. “Have a good night.”

For courtesy’s sake, Jim had stubbed his light out at the door, but it wasn’t long into their foray that they discovered it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. The club was practically solid with smoke, and the smell of booze and sweat rode right along with it. Even Jim had to wrinkle his nose. “God,” he commented, earning a nod of agreement from his companion. “For such a classy joint, you’d think they would have no-smoking rules.”

“Remember who we’re talking about here,” Bruce said, more _at_ him than _to_ him. He was already scanning the area for Cobblepot, who didn’t seem to be anywhere in the vicinity of the first floor. All the tables were empty, and he didn’t strike Bruce as the type to be mixed up in the mass of people on the dance floor. That just left the second story. When they reached the narrow staircase, there was another bouncer blocking their path. Worse, the moment he saw them, he stepped aside and allowed them up.

This had to be a trap.

Bruce set his jaw to the side. Jim must have noticed, because a moment later he felt a hand on his forearm. A comfortable weight though it might have been, he couldn’t relax just yet. “After you,” he insisted, watching as Jim gave him a strange look before heading up. As he followed, he casually reached for the homing button on his watch, then replaced his sleeve with a quick glance up at the other. Now that the Batmobile was en-route, he could breathe a little easier.

“What’re you thinking, Bruce?” Jim asked, interrupting his mental plan-mapping. He was relieved to find that the cop’s tone was knowing; at the very least, he seemed to be aware that this was some sort of setup.

“Thinking that maybe my dear friend Oswald really has gotten sick of my face,” he said flatly.

“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Jim reached the top of the stairs just a second before Bruce, and when they stood together again, the comforting hand was back, this time perched on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I came armed just in case. If they go for you, run. I’ve got a couple recruits hanging out in the area and I’ll buzz them to come take care of business.”

“You came more prepared for danger than you let on,” Bruce pointed out.

“One can never be too careful,” Jim said by way of explanation. “I said I expected the Bat, not that I knew for sure he’d be here. In lieu of a masked vigilante, there’s always a good old-fashioned pistol and a military-trained gunman.”

Bruce didn’t like the way that sounded. “I don’t think it’ll be that dire.”

From the back, Oswald emerged wiping his hands on a rag. When he spotted them, he seemed surprised. “Why, Bruce Wayne!” he exclaimed, pointing with his cane to a sofa in the far corner. “Have a seat, kid. It’s been a while, huh? Last I saw ya, you were yea big,” he continued, putting his free hand low to the ground to emphasize his point. “Didn’t think _you’d_ be here tonight.”

Jim and Gordon exchanged a look. The latter took a hesitant step forward. “He was on the list,” he said succinctly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Oswald laughed, then pretended to wipe a tear away. “Please. That little brat? Commissioner, _you’re_ the one I was hoping to see tonight.”

Behind them there was a click, a sound so metallic and hollow that it was unmistakable. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Cobblepot,” he said, “what do you want with him?”

“Well, you see,” Oswald began conversationally, examining his nails as he spoke, “word’s been getting around that the GCPD likes fraternizing with a very peculiar kind of guy. You might have heard of him! Tall, dark, Bat-shaped…”

“We don’t know anything about the Batman,” Jim told him. “He just…he showed up a couple of times and helped us. We didn’t _call_ for him.”

Oswald looked as though he were considering this, but it was hard to tell whether he really was or just being facetious. He took carefully-measured steps toward them, each one punctuated with the blunted _click_ of his cane hitting the floor, and stopped to peer up along the bridge of his pointed nose at Gordon. “I know he’s around. Where you bumbling pigs go, he goes. You tell me where he is, and Mister Wayne doesn’t get his head blown clean off.”

“Listen,” Bruce said, his tone beginning to get rough around the edges, “I’m sure we can work this out peacefully.”

The beady eyes that fell on him were equal parts cold and annoyed. The cane came up and jabbed him in the chest. “You know, Gordon,” Oswald said, still holding Bruce’s stare, “I’m surprised you chose _him_ as your ride-along. I anticipated more of your little cop friends, not a playboy.”

“How did you know I was coming?” Jim asked, derailing the topic.

“I plant the seeds on the streets, and my little birdies send them out. You must have heard someone talking about my lovely little gala tonight. Isn’t that right?” Oswald grinned conspiratorially, and Jim scowled at him.

“You set me up to get to the Bat? That’s pretty desperate of you, Cobblepot.”

“You’re telling me you _don’t_ know how to contact him?”  Their ensuing stare was a silent war, lasting far longer than Bruce could hold his temper.

“If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t. You’re not doing a damn thing but wasting our time.”

Oswald raised a thin brow at Bruce, then lifted his eyes to his bodyguard, whose fingers suddenly dug in tight to the muscles of Bruce’s shoulders. Before he could blink he was being manhandled across the room and thrust onto his knees in the center of the floor.

Alarmed, Jim drew his weapon and aimed it at Oswald’s head. “Leave him out of this!”

“No, no, no.” Oswald clicked his tongue, then jerked a thumb toward the bodyguard. “He’s what we like to call ‘leverage,’ my friend. If you don’t get me what I want, then the playboy gets a whack. Or two. Or three!” He toddled over to pat Bruce on the head, and, with almost a sick sort of kindness, said, “I _am_ sorry it had to be you, Mister Wayne. Your father and I got along famously. I liked ya, kiddo.”

Bruce glowered at him.

“You shoot me,” Oswald said, side-eyeing Gordon from where he stood, “we shoot Brucie.”

For a long moment, Jim did not move. Then, slowly, he lowered his gun. “I can…take you to where we usually meet,” he said, voice low, eyes reluctant. “I can’t promise he’ll show, but—”

“Jim, don’t,” Bruce warned. “Don’t barter with criminals.”

“Shut him up,” Oswald said to his bodyguard without bothering to look at him.

Presently, Bruce found himself being knocked across the jaw with the stranger’s gun, cold metal edges digging in and whipping his head around so quickly that he found himself momentarily out of his orient. Somewhere in the corner of his blurred vision, he saw Gordon lift his gun again.

The room seemed to explode around him with a bang.

Oswald was cawing expletives, but it was the bodyguard who had gone down, a bullet lodged firmly in the thick muscle of his thigh. Bruce drove into him, shoulder-first, knocking him to the ground with a strained grunt. Arms circled around his neck from behind, and he realized at once it was Oswald, trying to cart him off in his talon-like grasp before Jim tried to aim for him, next.

Annoyed, Bruce stomped on the man’s instep, making his lose his grip and giving Bruce just enough time to whirl around and catch him by the throat. “Jim, run.”

“ _What?_ ” he cried, dumbfounded. “I’m not gonna leave you in here with these maniacs!”

“Then call your backup and run. Get out of here.”

Jim had the nerve to scoff at him, but Bruce didn’t get the chance to respond before Cobblepot’s bodyguard was back on him, pressing the nozzle of his gun painfully against Bruce’s temple.

He was getting tired of this. Whipping the gun out of the man’s hands was the easy part; sparring with him, muscle to muscle, was a tad harder, especially without the Kevlar to protect him. In the middle of their fighting there came a cacophony of footsteps—far too many for it just being Jim and Oswald in the room. Bruce was worried for a sliver of a second that it was more of Cobblepot’s men, but the uproarious commotion downstairs pointed at the intrusion being of an uninvited sort.

Within minutes it was over. The GCPD backups had Oswald and his thug in cuffs, and Jim was shaking his head at something one of them was saying that Bruce didn’t bother trying to hear. All he knew was that he could finally get out of there. The smoke and booze smell was beginning to make him ill, and the grappling he’d instigated didn’t exactly do much to settle his stomach.

There was a hand on his shoulder, and he was surprised to see Jim there, nodding toward the door with a look of purpose. “Come on, they’ve got these two pricks under control. They’re gonna let me take you home.”

“Take me—” Bruce started, only for his approaching argument to be tutted over.

“After that, I think we could both use some fresh air.”

With a wave at his cohorts, Jim was hustling Bruce back down the stairs. It seemed that he was more eager to get outside than Bruce was, which was impressive. “I don’t wanna stick around for the ‘I would have gotten away with it, too!’ Y’know what I mean?” Jim laughed, a sound that seemed to take up more volume once they were out in the clear, cool night air. Being out of the oppressive canopy of smoke was one thing, but being outside with both of them alive and (mostly) unhurt was a far greater accomplishment.

Once they’d snuck away from the pandemonium and into the parking garage where Bruce had parked his non-armored car, Jim lit a cigarette and faced him with an apology. He took a drag, then blew it out in one long sigh. “I didn’t mean to get you caught up in all that, Bruce,” he said, furrowing his brows earnestly. “I wasn’t… I didn’t think it was going to escalate like it did.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right,” Bruce returned. He slid his hands into his pockets and looked out into the black distance, not so much to look as to think.

“Glad _I’m_ all right!” Gordon said with a laugh. “I’m glad _you’re_ all right! Honestly, I had no idea you knew how to fight so well.”

Bruce nodded along without really listening until the other man put a hand on his elbow and regarded him with an impressed smile. “Where’d you learn to grapple like that, eh?”

“Lots of practice,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. “You can never be too careful in a city like this.”

“Amen,” Jim said with a snort. “All that for the Batman. I should have known.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through for some guy in a costume,” Bruce mumbled. He wasn’t sure if it was to Jim or to himself.

“Ah, I think it’s a little more than that. Batman’s not just a man; he’s a mystery. He’s an ideal—a symbol. Everything this city needs and then some.”

Bruce studied him then, watching him speak with a spaced-out look and a smile on his face. The smoke curling around him was suddenly forgotten, completely ignored in favor of a truer passion. “Batman’s loyal to Gotham and to her police force. Sure, he bends the rules, but it’s…” He trailed off, but just when Bruce thought he was done, he looked at him with an electric look, one that captivated him. “He really is a… _super_ hero. I gotta be honest with you. I can do that, right?”

 _Only if I can be honest with you, too_. “Of course,” he answered.

“I’m practically in love with the guy.”

Bruce barely had time to take another breath before Jim was talking again. On the bright side, it gave him time to think about how he should respond to _that_. He had all these confessions in the palm of his hand, and he knew he could tell Gordon everything right here and now, in the middle of a dimly-lit parking garage in downtown Gotham. He could tell him every one of his truths, beginning with the most important.

“I see it in you, Bruce, everything I see in the Batman. I don’t mean that in a weird way.” Jim smiled like it hurt him to do so, then covered it with another puff. “The heroism, the loyalty, I mean. Seeing you kick ass like that was the cherry on top. You’re like the hero of this city that I can actually touch and talk to. That makes you better, I think, because you’re a _real_ man on top of being a noble one.”

They looked at each other for a heart-stopping moment.

“Batman didn’t swoop in tonight and save the day like I may have deluded myself into thinking he would. But _you_ were there, and you were perfect.” A pause; then, the conclusion: “I could kiss you for it.”

When Bruce heard himself speak, it sounded like how running in a dream felt: Not-quite-right, not like how he wanted it to be, but it was all he could do to reach that light at the end of the tunnel. “I’m not stopping you.”

It happened like the most mundane thing in the world. Jim shifted his cigarette to his other hand, the one farther from Bruce, and leaned over sideways. There was only a split-second of hesitation, and Jim’s mouth was on his, warm and smoky.

They were grown, they could handle this, Bruce told himself. Despite his personal advice, couldn’t help it when he cracked a toothy grin like a winning child. “Commissioner,” he began, and laughed when Jim scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Would you have enjoyed that more if I were wearing a Batman costume?”

Gordon laughed. It was loud and unabashed, and he was still standing there with one arm tucked under the other, cigarette burning away without attention. It was so _normal_ and right that Bruce wondered why they hadn’t tried this before.

“You know, Bruce, you’re a pain in my ass sometimes.” He smiled at him and dropped his cigarette to the ground before toeing it into the concrete. “Well I’m taking off. I don’t need to hijack any more of your night.”

“Is it weird that I had fun?”

“Yes, it is,” Jim answered, still laughing like he couldn’t seem to stop. “Get in the car, Wayne.”

“Goodnight,” Bruce said, pulling the driver’s side door open and glancing over his shoulder at him. “Call me if anything happens.”

“Will do.”

On the drive back home, he couldn’t help but think of telling Gordon the truth about the Batman. Something deep in him was so wanting of that, but he knew that now was the not the time. When that time did come, though, he knew without a doubt he could trust him with it.

He’d always been able to trust Jim.

 

EPILOGUE

GCPD Rooftop, 11:00 p.m.

The commissioner looked surprised to see him. “I’ll be damned,” he mumbled, bracing himself against a rather powerful gust of cold wind. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight.”

“I heard you put the Penguin behind bars,” Bruce said, voice devoid of emotion. Behind the mask, he could be as calculating and quiet as he wanted to be.

“I had help,” Jim admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. “From a good friend. You got any of those?” Bruce remained silent, but Gordon didn’t seem surprised. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” he said, then switched gears. “I have a favor to ask, Batman. It’s going to sound very, very strange.” Again, he was greeted with silence. With only his dignity to lose, he took the lack of response as an affirmative and pushed ahead, looking at Bruce the entire time like he was a problem that needed to be solved. “I’m gonna need you to come here for a second.”

Though Bruce knew his confusion did not translate well through the mask, he was sure it was palpable when he took a hesitant, short step forward.

Jim made a face. “All the way.”

“Is this some sort of game?” Bruce asked, moving in so that they were achingly close, but not quite touching.

Gordon looked up the few inches Bruce had on him and reached to lay a gentle hand on his cheek.

Panic seized Bruce within the minute, and without thinking he gripped Jim’s wrist like a vice. To the cop’s credit, he did not flinch but simply nodded his head as though he expected it. “Listen,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m gonna ask you to kiss me, and you’re gonna pretend like I didn’t just ask that.”

Shit. He’d been caught, hadn’t he? Bruce was in a frenzy, but it was all he could do to keep from spilling his explanations right there on the roof, so he leaned down and kissed him, closer to the corner of his mouth than the center, as brisk and unfeeling as he could fake it.

Jim’s eyes fluttered open, but they were still clouded with the far-away look of deep thought.

“Why?” was all Bruce could manage, still dumbfounded by the request.

“It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do, and in light of recent…events… I just needed to confirm that it didn’t mean as much as I thought it would.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that a symbol of justice isn’t quite the romantic beacon I’d always hoped it was. Guess I’m more whipped than I thought for that, uh, that _friend_ I mentioned earlier.”

Bruce was reeling. The way Gordon looked, starry-eyed and suddenly ten years younger in the moonlight, telling the Batman that this fantasy he’d always had of him didn’t measure up to…Bruce Wayne.

Jim smiled awkwardly at him. “Hey, I’m sorry. Forget that ever happened, all right? I’ve, uh… I’ve got someone else. I just wanted to know what it was like.”

Bruce couldn’t stop himself from smirking. “That’s one way to tell a guy he’s a test dummy.”

Jim chuckled and turned away from the wind to light his cigarette of the hour. “No hard feelings, right?”

While his back was turned, Bruce reached up to unhook the cowl. “None at all,” he answered. It was the truth.

At the sudden change in voice, Jim wheeled around. The way his eyes went wide almost made Bruce laugh. His mouth went from a line to an ‘o’ shape, then finally stretched into a grin. “God _damn_ it,” he swore, threading the fingers of his free hand into his hair. “Bruce, you… You’re…”

“I trust you with this,” Bruce interjected, licking his lips to combat the nerves of vulnerability and affixing Jim with a smile that was very nearly apologetic. “I thought about it for the last few hours, and I decided it really was time.”

“Now that I just made an ass of myself?” Jim asked, watching with a gleam in his eye as Bruce’s smile became teasing.

“That was not part of the plan. Glad to know that it isn’t just the suit that gets you, though.”

Jim tossed his head back to laugh. “You _really_ are a pain in my ass.”

“So I’ve been told,” Bruce replied, donning the cowl again. “Thank you, Jim.”

“What on earth for?”

“For being with me every step of the way.”

“And half the time not even knowing it,” Jim said, harrumphing around the wind-extinguished filter between his lips. He reached for his lighter, and by the time he looked up again, the Batman had disappeared. “Out of all the things to change,” he muttered, lighting up again between cupped hands, “glad to see _that_ stayed the same.”


End file.
